The Dating Intervention: Book 1 in the Intervention Series (33 page)

“Then he was one of the guys Summer and Josie picked for me from FindLove.com! Can you believe it? I know Summer told you about one of our dates, but I haven’t told you all the rest.”
 

Finally, she told about their chance encounter, when she’d been walking down Main Street feeling sorry for herself and he’d come out of the pizzeria and cheered her up.
 

“To think, he’s been in Juniper this whole time and I’ve never seen him. And then, within a matter of weeks, I see him everywhere!”
 

Camille listened, rapt, to the entire story. She sat perfectly still, but with the telling of each new detail, her eyes became more alight with excitement. Finally, when Delaney finished, she sat back, sipped her coffee and said with a calm that belied the energy radiating off of her, “Well, this is all very serendipitous.”
 

“I know.” Delaney said. “It is, right? But I don’t want to get my hopes up. This is like one of those times when I really like a guy and it’s too good to be true.”
 

“Delaney, I’m going to be honest, here.”
 

Delaney took a deep breath. Any portion of any conversation that started out with those six words required some mental preparation.
 

“Okay,” she said. She took a sip of her coffee.

“Whenever you think something is too good to be true, you make it so.”
 

“What do you mean? You’re talking in code again, Mom. Why do you always have to come up with these clever ways to say things, things that actually just end up confusing me?”
 

Camille, her expression knowing, said, “What I mean, honey, is that whenever something seems really good, you sabotage it. Without fail.”
 

Delaney flinched. The truth hurt. But she didn’t have to ask for examples. She could think of a handful, on her own. The first, the big one, was the single callback interview she’d landed during her search for a vet job straight out of school. Sure, she’d tried to block it out. She didn’t even let herself think of it when she reminisced about that period in her life.
 

Alex Spire, DVM, had been hiring. Delaney Collins, DVM, had applied. The first interview had gone well. Stellar, actually. She’d sailed through it. They’d had great rapport, good chemistry, solid communication.
 

“It’s too good to be true,” she’d said to her mom on the phone after the first interview. “It was awesome.”
 

That night, alone and filled with anxiety knowing she’d have another interview the next day with some of Dr. Spire’s staff members, she’d downed an entire bottle of Pinot Noir. Black Cat, 2004.
 

The next morning, she woke up hungover and puking her guts out. She missed the second interview completely and because of the high number of applicants, Dr. Spire had written her off immediately … even though she’d been a shoo-in.
 

And that wasn’t the only instance where she’d taken a perfectly good opportunity and foiled it.

Her mom was still staring at her as if she could see the memories in Delaney’s mind. Delaney shrugged.
 

“I think I’ve outgrown that, Mom,” she said, hoping that if she said
that
, she’d make it so.
 

At least, I hope I have.
 

“And now I’ve got to get to cooking class.”
 

***

The scent and sting of freshly-cut onions filled the back room at Country Kitchen. Delaney’s eyes watered as she continued chopping, and she swiped at her tears with the sleeve of her sweater. Today, Wendy planned to walk them through a simple cucumber, tomato and red onion salad, followed by ham and pesto roll-ups.
 

“Sorry you’re crying,” Beth said, handing Delaney a tissue.
 

“No, you’re not,” Delaney said. “This is why you didn’t want to chop the onions. You don’t want to ruin your mascara.”
 

Beth continued slicing her cucumber and adding it to the bowl, making a show of being industrious. Delaney could see her hiding a smile.

“You’re right. Josh, the guy whose mom teamed up with my mom to send on a blind date? He invited me for drinks after this. So you’re right. I want to look good.”
 

“Second date, right?”
 

“Right.”
 

Beth slid a tomato knife out of the block and began chopping the tomatoes while Delaney measured mayonnaise and vinegar for the dressing.
 

“So how was the blind date?”
 

“It was good, actually. Our moms might be onto something. He owns that auto shop, over on Beale Street? And he is really, really nice. We’ve read a lot of the same books and liked a lot of the same movies. We met for dinner and talked for hours. I didn’t get home until after midnight.”
 

“I remember when I was in high school, my friend Summer used to always say she was ‘talking’ to a guy until late into the night, but it really meant she was totally making out with him.”
 

“We were talking, really,” Beth said. “I swear!”
 

“Sure you were,” Delaney said.

“Ready to toss?”
 

Beth carefully tossed the dressing into the salad. Delaney added salt and pepper.
 

“So how’s it going with the delicious stalker who stared at you through the window?”
 

“He
is
delicious,” Delaney said. “It’s going good. I just want to jump his bones, but my friends are making me verify we’re exclusive, first. I told him I’m not seeing anyone else. His response? He’s super busy with opening his art gallery. So they want me to wait until it’s official. Or whatever.”
 

“It is a good idea, if you don’t mind me saying so. I mean, I know I’m just your cooking class partner, but it seems like you’re pretty smitten. Exclusivity decreases your chances of having your heart broken.”
 

“See, I think it’s the opposite. I mean, what if he never wants to be exclusive?”
 

“What if he does?”
 

Delaney wanted to stomp her foot, but didn’t. “You sound just like Josie and Summer.”
 

Beth shrugged, a gleam in her eye. “I think we’re ready to eat.”
 

Delaney was surprised to discover the salad was great. Who would have thought such a simple combination of veggies could produce something so mouthwatering?
 

“The roll-ups are a bit more complicated,” Wendy said from the front of the classroom area. “Let’s get everything cleaned up and then we’ll prep.”
 

As Delaney scraped the onion skin from the cutting board into the compost bin, she was startled by a voice in her ear.
 

“You should have the talk. Force him to give you a straight answer.”
 

It was Myron, the glasses-wearing half of the gay couple who stood behind her during class. Delaney flinched.
 

“Why is everyone saying that?”
 

“Because it’s true. Look, I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s necessary.” When she moved aside so he could scrape his own cutting board clean, he continued, “You don’t want to be left wondering what he’s going to do if he meets some other cutie patootie. Right?”
 

She shrugged. “Right.”
 

As Wendy had promised, the ham and pesto roll-ups were only slightly more complicated than the cucumber salad. Together, Delaney and Beth rolled out pastry dough, then spread cheese and pesto onto it and topped those with slices of deli-style ham. They then rolled the dough up, sealed the seam and baked it.
 

“This. Is. So. Good.”
 

“You should cook this for Jake when you invite him over for pre-sex dinner,” Beth said.
 

Delaney closed her eyes in ecstasy.

“Seriously,” Beth said. She swallowed a bite of the roll-up. “I mean, now that you can cook, you’ve got to invite him over. That’s what I’m doing.”
 

“You know,” Delaney said, “we’re definitely going to have to keep in touch. I can’t be left wondering what happens between you and Josh. And I’m going to need your advice.”
 

“You’re right. You are going to need my advice. In fact, before we leave tonight, I want you to text Jake and invite him over for dinner this weekend.”
 

“I don’t have his number. But I’ll message him tonight on FriendZoo or something. I guess this makes you an official, participating member of The Dating Intervention.”
 

Beth winked.

Just as class ended, Delaney texted Summer and Josie to get the go-ahead on inviting Jake over.
 

A couple of hours later, she relaxed on her couch with Pixie and a cup of tea. Well, semi-relaxed, she thought. She hopped up every few minutes to check her computer for Jake’s reply to her invite.
 

She knew Beth was right: having Jake over for dinner really did provide a good opportunity to strengthen their relationship. But what if she burned the food? What if she undercooked it? What if it tasted horrible? What if he said he wanted to keep his dating options open?

Beth, of course, had provided a simple answer when Delaney had rushed through these questions at the end of cooking class.
 

“Wine. Lots and lots of wine.”

Delaney entered Rowdy’s Thursday night feeling like things were looking up. She’d been messaging with Jake all week, saying things like
Don’t you have any pets? I’d love to examine them.
and
Happy Humpday.
Work was going smoothly. She managed to stay in the girls’ good graces by following their abstinence-related advice.
 

She saw Benjamin right away, leaning over the table where his new beau sat. Their heads were close together and he winked at her when she raised her eyebrows at him.
 

Then she saw Josie.
 

She knew that look: Josie was mad. Spitting mad. As angry as a swarm of bees when a wayward dog invaded their hive. Josie stood beside their normal table, facing the entrance. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes were narrowed, glaring straight into Delaney’s and her full lips were set in a straight line. Delaney paused, mid-stride.
 

Only one explanation existed for Josie’s behavior: she found out about the application. Which meant she was a finalist for the principal position. Delaney felt a surge of excitement. She wanted to run to Josie, to hug her, to congratulate her. But she knew better.
 

Josie was going to kill them.
 

Where was Summer? Delaney didn’t see her corpse on the ground, so she was probably late.
 

For a full second, Delaney debated, frozen mid-stride in the shaft of dusty sunlight coming through the door. Should she go sit with Josie? Should she back out the door and wait for Summer to show up so they could face her together? Summer probably wouldn’t show up for at least five more minutes, and what was she supposed to do with herself until then? Wither under Josie’s glare?
 

I survived the Carpool Tuesday Inquisition. I can survive this.

“It’s now or never,” she murmured.
 

 
Shoulders back, head held high, Delaney approached the table and slid onto her stool.
 

“Hey,” she said, as casually as she could, although her heart raced.
 

“Hey.”
 

“How’s your day?”
 

“Fine.”
 

“Mine’s good.” Delaney said. “Did a cataract surgery on a cat, had a couple of spays and a neuter. And a toenail trim on a Yorkie. You’d love that little guy. So cute.”
 

Josie arched an eyebrow.
 

“Remember that time you waxed my eyebrows?” Delaney said. “Freshman year? And you promised they’d look awesome but you accidentally waxed off some of the skin? I walked around for four days with scabs on my eyelids.”
 

A hint of amusement reached Josie’s eyes, but her face remained immobile.
 

“Wait for Summer,” Delaney said. The words tumbled out in a rush, filled with desperation and pleading.
 

Josie had always had a temper, since the girls had met in junior high. Once, during a volleyball match in gym class, she’d served the ball at the teacher’s head because the teacher told her to try a little harder. Five days of in-school suspension. Another time, when she’d first gotten her driver’s license, another student told her that her Volkswagen Golf was ugly, so she’d put concrete mix in the gas tank of his old truck. Grounded for a month. She’d never do anything like that to her best friends, Delaney knew, but she did have a tendency to get very angry.
 

“Fine,” Josie said.
 

They sat in relative silence for the next five minutes, which inched by like a snail in peanut butter. Delaney remembered her dad using that expression one morning when she’d taken too long to get dressed.
 

Finally, Summer walked in. She, too, paused in the doorway, before approaching the table with obvious caution, no doubt tipped off by the icy standoff at the table.
 

“Hey,” she said.
 

Finally, Delaney was able to let some of her excitement out. “Josie’s a finalist,” she said.
 

“That’s wonderful news!” Summer answered, relief lighting up her face even as she scooted her stool closer to Delaney’s before climbing onto it.
 

Again, Delaney thought she saw a flicker of happiness in Josie’s eyes, but her stony countenance remained unchanged.
 

“Wait. Isn’t it?” Summer said.
 

“You guys,” Josie said, her voice barely registering above a growl. “Why didn’t you tell me?”